


This has to work

by noshameg



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: :), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I guess this story is set around the episode "ruin", M/M, aka 05x04, in my universe; Bruce doesn't stop until he finds a cure for Jeremiah, thanks for coming to my ted talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 20:42:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18373724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noshameg/pseuds/noshameg
Summary: Bruce finds Jeremiah before Selina does, and he has a cure with him.





	This has to work

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, please don’t pay attention to the potential mistakes you might encounter during your reading. This is unbeta’ed, but written with Batjokes love.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> P.-S.: I miss Jeremiah.

Bruce grunted, his right cheek throbbing fiercely after a particular solid punch he received. He was sure it’d start bruising soon enough. His opponent was now on the ground, passed out, but Bruce had to admit the guy had been rather feisty. In the end, he had gotten the upper hand, and the information he needed. That was mattered the most.

He huffed, touching his cheek with his thumb before setting his gaze on the dark abandoned street around him. The Dark Zone was rather dull during the day, it was true, and so Bruce had expected to be the opposite during nighttime. That was why he was surprised when only  _ a few _ guys had attacked him tonight. But then again, at least one of them had been useful.

Because this was it.

Tonight, Bruce was going to find Jeremiah.

**

If Bruce had been disappointed with the small number of people he had to fight tonight, he finally got his wish granted when he arrived at Jeremiah’s secret lair. He hadn’t been sure what to find once he managed to infiltrate, but nothing would have prepared him to see Jeremiah; standing in front of what looked like a tunnel, fanning himself with a hat that perfectly matched with his odd outfit.

Bruce frowned, assessing the situation while trying to remain hidden. He hadn’t known what to expect from Jeremiah’s followers either, but seeing them digging a tunnel was not it. But here they were, seemingly working relentlessly. 

A figure stepped away from the tunnel. It was a bald-headed man dressed in black. He walked in determination towards Jeremiah, whose back was facing Bruce. “You're pushing my men way too hard,” the man said. “We're not gonna break through for at least a couple more days. There is absolutely no way to make it on schedule.”

Bruce expected Jeremiah to retort something, with his odd, cold voice of his, but instead, as soon as the man was finishing his last word, Jeremiah had lifted his arm. In a swift mouvement, the man’s throat had been sliced, and all Bruce could hear was a choking sound, then the man’s knees promptly hitting the ground in an audible thud.

A dreadful silence fell over the room, the workers suddenly at a stop. Bruce couldn’t see Jeremiah’s face, but he imagined he would see an impassive expression on the visage of his old friend.

“Well, not with that attitude, you’re not,” Jeremiah drawled out very calmly, as if he hadn’t just killed a man in cold blood.

Bruce wanted to inhale deeply, but he didn’t do anything, too afraid he would be heard over the silence room. It was like at any moment now, you could hear a fly drop. Then Jeremiah turned around, facing the workers gathered close to where Bruce was hiding. “Well,” he said, a feeble smile briefly passing over his face. “Everyone… Let’s reach inside, and dig a little deeper. Shall we?” The wicked smile reappeared. And yet, what startled Bruce the most was the odd accent in his ex-friend’s voice. Since when Jeremiah had an accent? “‘Cause that's the only way you're all making it out of this hole,” the criminal finished, his smile telling Bruce he was enjoying this, despite the obvious annoyance he had experienced a few seconds ago.

Bruce frowned, watching as the workers started working even faster than they previously were, too eager to carry out their leader’s wishes. Or maybe they were too scared to anger him. At this point, Bruce wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

All he knew was that, after months of looking for Jeremiah, he had  _ finally _ found him again.

He was finally  _ this _ close to save Jeremiah.

Bruce knew that Jeremiah’s followers would never stop working, and he had no idea how he would infiltrate the site while having enough time to give Jeremiah the cure without being attacked in return. He was sure these people would do everything for their commander.

No, Bruce couldn’t do this now. He needed to get Jeremiah alone.

So in the meantime, he did the only thing he could think of. He retracted and explored Jeremiah’s lair. That was how he found himself breaking in into what looked like a small, storage room. The place seemed ordinary at first glance, but as soon as Bruce stepped a foot inside, he felt a sense of déjà-vu. 

There was a table in the room, and a chalkboard. There were plans of Gotham, drawings of a tunnel. It didn’t take long for Bruce to guess this room was Jeremiah’s office. It definitely was a less upgraded version of the one Jeremiah had in his maze. The room Bruce and Jeremiah had spent so much time in… The room where—

Bruce shook his head. Now was not the time. He took the necessary steps separating him from the desk. Maybe he’d find the reason of that digging. What was Jeremiah up to?

His hands froze on the papers as he heard the door behind him crack open, ever so lowly. That was a rookie mistake; Bruce shouldn’t had his back turn away from the door in the first place.

“Ecco did tell me she’d seen you hanging around.”

Bruce swiftly spinned, not even surprised when he felt a knife at his throat. Jeremiah was already so close to him, his gray eyes staring deeply into Bruce’s, as if reaching for his soul, trying to jolt Bruce’s darkest part awake.

And the smile on his ex-friend’s face… He was grinning so widely.

“Jeremiah,” he said lowly, his voice sounding raspy in the quiet room. He wasn’t sure why.

The grin on Jeremiah’s face widened, if it was even possible. A hand had found his way to Bruce’s hip, pushing him against the desk; Jeremiah’s body so close to his, keeping him caged, exactly where he wanted Bruce. “Hello, my dear Bruce.” Words were spoken slowly, almost gently, reverently.

Bruce gulped, and even that sounded way too awfully audible. The cold knife was still very much pressed against his skin, but he knew Jeremiah had no intention of doing any real damage. That was why Bruce’s hand, buried in the pocket of his coat, seized what would be Jeremiah’s salvation.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?” Jeremiah asked, drawling his words. His tone was calm, serene, as if not alarmed or bothered at all by Bruce’s unannounced presence. As if not surprised that Bruce had found him. Perhaps there even was a glimmer of delight in the young man’s eyes; that sick appreciation that always sent chills to Bruce.

He tightened his fingers around the object. He swallowed, and tried to ignore how the grip of Jeremiah’s hand on his waist felt like burning. “I’m here to stop you,” he answered, and in a quick movement, took the little object from his pocket and brought it to Jeremiah’s neck. 

The needle was inserted into the skin, and Jeremiah’s head fell back at the brusque gesture and intrusion, letting out a small, surprised gasp. The knife he was holding scraped Bruce’s skin as it fell, drawing a hiss out of Bruce. But he paid no mind to that, instead gripping Jeremiah’s forearms as the man stumbled backward. His grin was temporally gone, replaced by a sheer lack of dismay instead. This was so different from usual.

This was good.

“ _ Bruce. _ ” His voice was sharp, almost cutting the air. His very well drawn eyebrows were furrowed into a deep frown. “What have you done?” He took another step backward, and this time his body fell to the ground in spite of Bruce’s best efforts to keep him upright. The latter tried to cushion Jeremiah’s back of head with a hand, grimacing when his knees met the ground forcefully, and not for the first time today. Again, he paid that no mind.

“It took me some time,” Bruce finally spoke — and God, why was it so difficult to speak? — eyes searching for Jeremiah’s. The gray colour was almost gone, filled with black instead with how much they were dilated. Bruce squeezed Jeremiah’s forearm with his hand, and tried to ignore how he was still cupping the back of Jeremiah’s head. “But I am convinced this is going to work, Jeremiah.”

In spite of Jeremiah seemingly appearing in pain, he still managed to breath out a chuckle. “You fool…” He was staring into Bruce’s eyes, but his gaze was glassy, unfocused.

Bruce gulped, and refusing to be rattled, refusing to let his emotions flow, continued to speak. “I knew I could find a way around Jerome’s gas eventually. I knew I could find a  _ cure _ .” Quietly, he added with a frown, “I apologise for taking so long.”

Jeremiah shook his head, but his movement was sluggish. Bruce tried not to tighten his fingers around Jeremiah’s hair. “You  _ can’t _ cure me,” Jeremiah whispered then. He gave Bruce a smile, but it lacked the usual immensity each of his smiles always had. “Because there’s nothing for me to be cured from.”

It was Bruce’s turn to smile, albeit ruefully. Perhaps if he was aware of his thumb massaging Jeremiah’s forearm, would he stop doing it. “You’re wrong. It’s working already, and you know it.”

Jeremiah’s smile twitched, and he let out a groan of pain, then let his head rest against the ground. (With Bruce’s hand still cupping the back of it. Again, he ignored that.) Jeremiah was looking at the ceiling now, blinking a few times in the span of a second.

Bruce licked his lips, before closing his eyes an instant. He wasn’t there for Jeremiah when Jerome did this, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to be there for this. Because  _ this _ was going to work. It had to.

“You fool,” Jeremiah repeated, making Bruce open his eyes. This time, Jeremiah’s words lacked any raillery. And only when his eyes refocused on Bruce, did he murmur, “Bruce…” before they ultimately closed.

Bruce held his breath for God knows how long, and it wasn’t until he couldn’t feel his hand upholding Jeremiah’s head that he finally found the strength to move.

This was going to work. It had to.

Bruce bit his lips, letting his head fall above Jeremiah’s. His forehead touched his, and he allowed himself to close his eyes. It was the first time he let himself be this close to Jeremiah after everything that had happened between them.

“God, I hope this works…”

**Author's Note:**

> Well… I originally intended to write more, but the inspiration never came. I figured I could end on this note, and let you guys imagine whatever you want to happen next.
> 
> But who knows… I may get back to this. Until then, 
> 
> Ha, ha, ha.
> 
> P.-S.: Please, do not hesitate to leave a little comment. ^.^ It'd make my day.


End file.
